


learning to live in circles as well as straight lines

by llaras



Category: Firefly
Genre: Blind Character, Crash fic, Depression, Disability, F/M, Grieving, M/M, Multi, Threesome eventually, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 15:05:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13549860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llaras/pseuds/llaras
Summary: There's a crash landing, three survivors, and mystery in the woods. Very AU.*Major character death refers to the crash mentioned in the tags, meaning Serenity has crash landed and not everyone from the crew has survived.*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I posted the first part of this November 2nd, 2003. I had pretty big plans for this story. I would still like to finish it someday. I hope the little bits I did finish are still interesting and readable. :-)
> 
> The title is from the poem "Digging in" by Marge Piercy.

It's colder this morning. There's a thin sheet of ice in the water basin and a coat of frost on the window, blocking her view of the yard. It's really cold. Inara takes her still warm hand out from under the blanket she stole off the bed, puts it on the glass and waits for the ice to melt. In her mind she knows what woke her up, but she still needs to check before she can go back to sleep. Strange noises do not go uninvestigated around here, no matter how sleepy and comfortable you are.

_Thunk_

_Slam_

Finally the pane warms up, having stolen most of the heat from her hand, and she peers out through her handprint to see what woke her from dreams of chocolate and champagne. It's Jayne. Chopping wood. Again. She sighs in exasperation and the other occupant of the room stirs awake.

"More wood?" Wash asks. He's still half asleep and the words come out slurry and soft.

"Yes," Inara answers. "Because there are still more trees out there and he won't rest until they have all been hacked into a thousand little piles of kindling."

He laughs into his pillow and grins up at her through unruly bed hair, all rumpled and inviting. That smile gets her every time. "The man has a thing for wood, it's time we all acknowledged that fact and moved on."

Inara knows he's trying to get her to laugh and lighten up, but really, it is a bit early to be making so much noise. The sun is barely up, another half hour's wait wouldn't have hurt.

"Are you coming back to bed? It's warm." He takes his time with that last word and that finally makes her smile.

"No." She yawns and shrugs the blanket off. Brrr. "May as well get started, there's a lot to get done today."

"Don't remind me," Wash says as he pulls the covers over his head. "I was hoping for one last day of frolicking and merriment."

She almost snorts at him. "I guess the halcyon days of summer are over. Fall is here."

"Oh joy," he mutters. "What fun."

Inara grabs her robe off the foot of the bed and ties it securely around her waist, suddenly grateful for the pockets she sewed on earlier this year. There's something stuffed in the bottom of the pocket. Her fingers curl around a small square of fabric and rub idly over an embroidered design. "I'm going to get some tea started. Are you getting up or should I wait on breakfast?" she asks.

"Hmmm?" He's almost asleep again.

Inara walks over and studies this man she shares a bed with. He's thinner now and there are new lines on his face, but he is still Wash. Funny, smart, a gentle and caring man. And not hers. She doesn't mind too much. She knows how the heart yearns. She doesn't even mind when he wakes up in the night and calls her by the name of another. It bothers him though, that he could slip up and forget who he's with. But really, she doesn't mind.

"Inara?" he calls out as she turns away toward the door.

"Yes?" Her hand pauses on the knob.

"Can we have apples in our oatmeal again?" he asks so earnestly, like a child requesting something especially desired for his birthday.

"Of course," she answers. "That's my favorite too."

Inara starts to really wake up once she gets the stove stoked up and the water has begun to rumble in its kettle. She's never been much of a morning person. Even if she goes to bed early, there is still a period of adjustment that Wash endearingly calls her "grumpies". She used to try and be cheerful in the morning, but now thinks her forced fakery scares Jayne, and Wash told her that perhaps she should just be herself. "Grumbly, pouty Inara is much easier to be around in the early hours than big-teeth, smiley Inara who acts like she wants to pummel something with the frying pan," he said. And he's right. It is much easier to just be herself, moods and all. Though she does miss the way that Jayne would scramble out the door when she would greet him with that first "Good morning!" That actually would cheer her up a bit.

The chopping noises have subsided. Inara imagines he's stacking up the wood along the back of the house now. One thing about Jayne, the man knows how to work, and when it's with his own survival in mind, he works doubly hard. They will be warm this winter and she supposes she will soon forget these early morning wake ups. It's not like he does it to intentionally irritate her. That's just a bonus.

She starts to pick up around the main room as she waits for the water to come to a boil. Living area, cooking area, and dining area all in one. Very cozy. Sometimes too cozy when all you want is two minutes alone with your thoughts. Easy to heat though. She expects that they will spend a lot of time indoors this winter. Jayne says that all the signs point to a hard, cold one. Inara has no idea what exactly tells him that, but he's gotten them this far, so she trusts his instincts and skills completely.

She doesn't think they would have survived after the accident if he hadn't known what to do. She knows Wash wouldn't have survived if he had only had her to take care of him. She was so lost those first couple of days; Jayne's sure voice and hands are the only things she remembers clearly about that time. It was just too much to take in and while she always likes to think she can handle myself well in a crisis, she's not at her very best after having barely survived a crash landing on an unknown moon, with semi-serious wounds and most of her friends dead or dying.

Jayne was her constant. He urged her to take action and snapped her out of the dazes she allowed myself to succumb to. It was so much easier to not think, not move. Everything hurt so much, inside and out. But Wash was hurt far worse than she. He didn't even wake up until the third day. Inara could coax water down his throat, but he didn't move for so long, she thought he would surely die. He must have hit his head, Jayne said. That's all they could figure, hoping against hope that he wasn't bleeding inside. They were lucky to get away as whole as they did. None of the med-kits escaped unscathed. Really, there wasn't much of value left after the fire burned out. They were lucky. Sometimes she needs to repeat that to herself.

It's when she's putting on her hastily discarded house shoes by the door that Inara notices Jayne's coat is still hanging up on its hook. What is he thinking? It's freezing out there! She's not exactly dressed for going outside, but it will only take a moment to run it out to him. She grabs her coat and a scarf, taking care to wind it around the bottom half of her face. She pulls on her clogs and gloves and grabs a water bucket. May as well stop by the pump while she's out there. Two tasks completed in the same amount of time may leave her with a few extra moments later in the day when she needs them. It took her a long time to learn how to manage her time efficiently; being a Companion wasn't easy by any means, but it sure wasn't as difficult as running a house and taking care of two men. My, how things have changed.

Inara realizes her mistake with the very first step she takes into the bitter morning air. The sun hasn't had a chance to warm up the ground yet and her purposeful stride takes a turn for the worse. Ice and clogs do not mix well. Her shriek of surprise is cut short by the impact of her backside hitting the ground and she lies there for a moment, the bucket still grasped in one hand, Jayne's coat in the other. There's a bit of a breeze already and she can feel the icy fingers of the wind start to tickle up under her nightgown. Go-se. She doesn't think she can move.

Inara doesn't hear Jayne walk up because her ears are still ringing and rushing, but he is standing over her now, his large frame blocking out the few thin rays of sunshine that are available. She shivers.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he asks. She can't see his face, but she can imagine the look of consternation that has most likely settled there.

"I brought you your coat." Inara holds it up.

"Uh, thanks." He takes it from her hand and then bends at the knees to get closer to her level.

"I thought you might be cold," she mutters, waiting for him to laugh. She's sure she looks pretty funny, lying here on the ground, clutching the damn bucket, one clog on, one clog who knows where.

He sighs. "Need a hand up?"

There's no way Inara will make this into a bigger production than it already is. She'd like to have some dignity left intact. Besides, her ass hurts too much to move very fast. She wonders if he would just leave her there for a bit if she asked really nicely. Probably not. "Yes, please," she manages between clenched teeth.

Jayne picks her up, easy as you please, and carries her inside with as little ceremony possible. Inara's surprised, she expected at least one sarcastic remark, especially since she's pretty sure he knows what body part she landed on. But he doesn't say anything, just settles her down, bucket and all, on the big chair next to the stove. The heat starts to seep into her hands and she watches Jayne as he fetches her wayward footwear and shuts the door.

He's quiet this morning. It's unsettling. Her nose is running a bit from the rapid temperature changes of being inside, out, inside again, and she pulls out the little decorated handkerchief from her pocket and dabs at it as demurely as possible. She sees Jayne out of the corner of her eye stop and notice this. Inara looks away when their eyes meet. He lets a little smile escape for just a second before schooling his features back into a frown. She knows he's been waiting to see if she would use it or put it away with the other little treasures he brings home from his forays into town. She told him she didn't need pretty things anymore, but he doesn't listen.

Inara looks down at it for the first time since he gave it to her, it's been hiding in her pocket for months. There are little red flowers and a curly monogram in the corner. SR. She wonders who she was. Did she live here once, or was this a token given to a sweetheart as he left to start a homestead for their future family?

"Get too hot," Jayne says, startling her back to the present. Her eyes meet his again and she's sure he sees that she has no idea what he's talking about. He elaborates. "Choppin' wood makes me sweat too much, I end up taking the darn thing off anyway." He glances over at his coat, now hanging by the door again. "But thanks anyway."

Inara nods. He steps closer and picks up the bucket from by her feet and then turns back to the door.

"Jayne," she calls out to make him stop. "Do you think you can maybe find some more oatmeal when you head into town? We're almost out."

"Sure," he answers. "I like it when you put the little bits of apple in it." And then he's back outside, leaving her alone in the room.  



	2. Chapter 2

Wash turns over in the bed, enjoying the extra space now that Inara is up. Not that he minds her taking up half the bed. God no, he'll never mind that. But it's nice to have all the blankets to himself for a bit. Inara's pillow smells nice; a soft, uncomplicated scent that lingers after her wherever she goes. Pretty amazing since she doesn't have any fancy soaps or perfumes. Just plain old tallow soap, same as he and Jayne. Too bad it doesn't leave Jayne smelling that good.

He really should get up. It's just so easy to let sleep pull him back in, draw him into dreams of what once was.

_She_ is there. Always. Sometimes she's serious and dangerously intent. Sometimes laughing in his arms, smiling back at him with love shining out of her eyes. But always beautiful. Always his. The dreams are too few and far between now. The product of time passing. Or has he finally begun to move on?

Wash can hear them talking in the main room. And now Jayne is going back outside. Back to his chopping. Damn. Inara is starting to make breakfast noises now. He can hear the creak of the hinges on the stove door as she adds more wood; the hollow clunks as bowls and mugs are arranged on the table.

He has to struggle to hold onto the memory of that last dream.

Fall. The thought makes him sigh. There's so much to do. So many things that need to be accomplished before winter settles in. And there is never enough time to do all the things that should be done. He worries too that they will forget something, some essential thing.

The cabin is snug, he knows. The walls are thick and well-caulked, the rounded logs smoothed by patient, careful hands. The windows fit tightly, and once he gets the shutters done they'll have an extra layer of protection between them and the elements. He should get up and get those finished. Too bad the previous owner never got around to making them. Wash wonders about the man who put so much work into this place. And it was obviously meant for a family. The cradle in the main room and the single beds up in the loft gave that away. What happened to him? Them?

He has to shove those thoughts back, focus instead on more immediate things. What else is on the list for today? Oh, yes. Putting up the harvest from the apple and pear trees. Salvaging the last of the root vegetables from the garden before the ground starts to freeze. And the list. They need to decide on what must absolutely be had from town before travel becomes impossible. Jayne said he didn't think he could do more than one last run before the snow comes. Two weeks is his estimate of the bare minimum time this trip will take.

Wash wishes he could go with him.

There's a quick rap on the bedroom door. "Wash? There's coffee ready if you want."

"'Kay," he answers back quickly before she comes in to see if he's awake. "I'll be out in a minute."

She doesn't say anything, but he knows she's still standing there by the door, waiting to see if he does actually get out of bed. Wasn't too many months back that he wouldn't have.

Five steps to the wardrobe and he gets dressed in a hurry. It's too cold to spend any amount of time with bared skin. Jayne is stacking the wood now. Five steps back to the bed and he makes it up quickly. The extra quilt gets folded up and put back in the chest at the foot of the bed. The pillows stacked on top. Routine is good. Sometimes it's the only thing that keeps him going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted January 17th, 2004.


	3. Chapter 3

There's a glow about Wash today. Maybe it's because of the cheerful tune he's humming under his breath, or maybe it's the smile that's tugging at the corner of his mouth when he thinks no one is looking. Or maybe it's just the way the afternoon sun seems to suffuse through him, wicking through his hair like a flame of light.

Whatever it is, Jayne is suddenly cheered as well. It's nice to see Wash happy again, even if it's just for one day. He begins to whistle along as he finishes packing his travel bag, his notes mirroring the other man's wordless song until he realizes that Wash has stopped altogether. A sadness has overtaken his features and his hands are suddenly empty, the piece of wood he was so intent on seconds earlier now abandoned on the bench before him.

"Now my whistling ain't that bad," Jayne says in a desperate attempt at a joke. Wash doesn't respond.

Jayne looks around for Inara. She usually knows the right thing to say or do when Wash gets like this, but she is nowhere around. Probably gone off to the stream to take advantage of the sun and get some washing done. He wishes he were down there with her instead of up here in this awkward silence.

Jayne clears his throat as he buckles up the last strap. All packed. Ready to go. Too bad he's leaving in the morning and not right this second. At least he'd have an excuse to walk away without saying much more than see ya in a week or so.

Dammit. He looks over at Wash again. The sun still wreathes his form, yet the glow is gone.

Jayne clears his throat again. "Uh, anything you want me to keep an eye out for when I get there?" he asks. "Nara made me a list." He pulls the crumpled slip of paper out of his front pants pocket and peers at the tiny curlicued writing that covers both sides.

"No. No, I'm sure Inara knows better than I do what is needed." Wash frowns as he says this, his eyes straight ahead, hands clenched in his lap.

"Well now, I don't know about that." Jayne drops the pack and heartened by getting a response, he steps closer to Wash. "Seems to me most women don't really understand everything a man really needs outta life."

Wash laughs then, mirthlessly. "I don't really think a bottle of whiskey or a hand-rolled cigar is the answer to all my problems, Jayne. Not all men are created alike, you know."

"I wasn't suggestin' that. Though, hell, that sure would make the trip worthwhile for me." He turned to the list again. "I don't know how much you care about yarn and spatulas is all. Thought maybe there was something I could bring back for ya, supposin' there's any room left after I get..." he pauses, squinting at the last item on the list.

"What is it?" Wash asks.

"I have no gorram idea. This fancy handwritin' of hers is giving me a headache. I think it starts with an L." He brings the paper closer to his face. "No."

"Lace? Ladder? Lazy Susan? How long is the word?"

"Huh, all the letters kinda blend in. Maybe it's two words." He gives up and puts the paper back in his pocket. "Shit, don't matter much, I don't know what I'm going to find down there anyway. Whole town's probably empty. Just bring back some damn ghosts with me or something." And as soon as those words have left his mouth, Jayne instantly regrets them. He shoots a quick glance over at Wash, but the expression on the other man's face doesn't change.

"Let me try?" Wash asks softly as he holds out his hand.

Jayne looks at him in disbelief. He snorts. "What, you finally found a cure for your blindness when I wasn't payin' attention? I know I ain't been around that much, but I'd like to think that was some news worthy of the tellin'."

Wash's mouth tightens. "No Jayne, I haven't been miraculously cured while you were off doing whatever it is you do out there in the woods all day, but I do think I could help decipher that mystery item if you'd let me try." He holds out his hand again.

Jayne wants to protest. Whatever he does out there in the woods all day? He hunts, he fishes, he chops wood, he brings back seedlings for Inara to try in the garden, he looks for predator tracks, tries to figure out who or what is watching them. But he doesn't say any of this. Wash knows. Wash knows how much Jayne does for the three of them. And maybe that's part of the problem. There isn't much a blind ex-pilot can offer in skills when they're stuck on a deserted homestead far away from any town on a moon that seems to have been deserted long before they ever crash landed on it.

"What do you figure you can do?" he asks instead, truly puzzled.

"Here." Wash pats the space next to him on the bench. "Sit down."

Jayne settles down on the edge, his boots knocking against the other bench across from them. Wash's half finished carving rocks a couple times.

"Careful." Wash reaches out and steadies it with a firm touch. "Now," he holds out his hand, palm up, to Jayne. "Show me what the first letter looks like."

"Huh?" Jayne's confused.

"Trace it out. Like this." He grabs Jayne's big hand in his own and slowly draws his fingertip across the palm. His touch lingers long after he releases Jayne's hand.

"Okay." Jayne brings out the list again and looks closer at that last item. "Uh, okay," he mutters. "Let me try this."

He's tentative at first, not sure how hard to press or how fast he should go. Wash just sits there, a look of intense concentration the only clue that he knows Jayne is touching him. His hand rests easy in Jayne's, fingers spread, relaxed.

"Well?" Jayne asks.

"Hmmm. Not sure. Do it again, only slower?"

This time Jayne turns Wash's palm so that he gets a bigger space to work with, rests his thumb on the other man's wrist, pulls it a bit closer.

"It's a funny shape, see." He draws it again, with more surety. The callouses on his fingers digging a bit further into the softer skin of Wash's palm.

Wash shivers. "I think it's a J," is all he says.

Jayne watches the other man's expression as he traces out the next letter, a bit slower this time. "And this one?"

"Oh, um, definitely an A." He flexes his fingers a bit. "How many letters left?"

"I dunno. A few. Is this all right?" He asks as he starts to pull away.

"Yes!" Wash stops him. "It just feels strange is all. I'm not. It's okay. Go ahead."

Jayne can feel Wash's pulse quicken under his thumb and he watches in amazement as the other man's mouth opens a bit when he traces the next letter with the edge of his fingernail instead.

"I think. Yes," he breathes. "That's an S."

"I think," Jayne says close to his ear, "I think this is turning you on."

Wash gasps and jerks his hand free. "What? No!"

Jayne chuckles. Well, isn't this interesting.

"I think," he continues in that same low rasp, "I think it's been a while since somebody other than yourself gave you a happy and I think," he pauses as he runs his hand up Wash's thigh, squeezing, eliciting another gasp. "I think I'm just the man to..."

But he never gets to finish his proposition because Inara chooses that very moment to come back, her arms full with a basket of wet linen. "Jayne?" she calls out. "Some help please?"

And Wash is gone, already halfway back to the cabin before Jayne can respond.

"What's going on?" Inara is watching Wash go, her eyes worried as she struggles to not drop the clean sheets.

"Aw, nothin'." Jayne says. "I think maybe the sun got to him or somethin'. Here." He rescues the basket from its dusty fate and heads over to the clothesline. "I'll help you hang these up."

"Maybe I should go check on him." She's looking over at the cabin now, one hand pressed up close to her chest.

"Naw, he'll be fine. Sometimes things get to be just a little too much, you know? I think he just needs a little alone time." Inara doesn't see his smirk.

"Okay. You're probably right." She sighs. "Let's get this done, I thought of some more things we need and I want to get them written down before I forget."

Jayne laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted November 6th, 2004.


	4. Chapter 4

Inara runs her fingers along the blade. The scissors aren't sharp enough, she should ask Jayne to do something about that. She checks her image in the mirror, eyes long accustomed to sliding past the parts that no longer look like her: the hard eyes, the firm set to her mouth (she's going to get frown lines) and the other thing she doesn't want to acknowledge. She combs the left side of her hair and makes another attempt, but it's no use. Her hands won't keep steady and all of a sudden it's just too much effort.

There's a loud crack as she jams the point of the scissors right into the center of the mirror. And then she's grabbing things, throwing them with frustrated growls. Hairbrush, pot of rouge, bottle of perfume. It's going to smell like lily-of-the-valley forever now, but she doesn't regret it. It feels good to let go, to release all the pent-up feelings that have been trying to claw their way out for weeks now. She doesn't even realize that she's crying, the tears pour unnoticed down her cheeks.

"What's all the gorram shouting about?" And Jayne is there, his eyes wide and his hands large, making her give up the jar of face cream she was about to throw at the wall. "Inara!"

She gives up the jar, but she can't calm down; her breath comes harsh and fast and she's shaking and gulping and clutching, eyes screwed shut.

He's hushing her. Like that's going to work, she thinks wildly. She's on the verge of completely losing it; her heart is beating too fast for her to possibly ever recover.

"What's going on?" Wash yells from the other room.

"Everything's fine," Jayne calls out, but he shuts the door with a kick, not letting her go yet. He just holds on, enfolding her, keeping her close, arms wrapped tight at first and then gradually decreasing in pressure as her breath steadies.

She sniffles and wipes at her nose.

Jayne grunts. "Hey, lemme get you a hankie, this is a clean shirt."

He lets her go for a moment while he finds one on her dressing table and then he's back again.

"What's this?" He brushes back her hacked attempt at a haircut.

She blows her nose, not bothering with delicacy. Jayne doesn't care.

"I don't want it anymore."

"What? But it's so pretty."

She laughs at this. Her hair isn't like it was. No fancy shampoos or conditioners or hot oil treatments for her now, just harsh soap that leaves her hair too clean, dried out.

"Nothing is pretty about me anymore, Jayne." She brings a hand up to her face in a reflexive gesture. Her fingers touch the scar there and she flinches.

Jayne doesn't say anything and she can't help herself, the tears start again.

"Inara, don't. Please."

She wants to laugh at him, he's so obviously out of his depth here, but she isn't going to be able to make him feel more at ease. That's not her job anymore.

She gasps when he picks her up and settles them both in the big chair by the window. It's not a comfortable chair, but his body shelters her from the sharp wooden corners and the hard springs.

He's holding her like a baby and she takes comfort in his solidness and size. Inara doesn't remember her father, but she imagines that this is the way a parent would cradle a child. He leaves her alone, lets her get herself together, hums a wordless tune and pets her hair until she finds herself almost asleep. She fights it.

"I don't want to do this anymore," she says.

"I know."

"I don't want to be here anymore." She presses her face against the rough cotton of his shirt.

"I know."

"What are we going to do?" She looks up at him with bright eyes.

Jayne's mouth is set in a grim line, but it softens as he meets her gaze. "We'll figure something out."

He strokes her forehead, carefully closes her eyes with his thumb, lightly runs one fingertip down the red scar that slashes from her temple to her chin.

Inara clutches at his shirt. It still hurts, the physical pain as well as the memories of how she got it. Darkness. Fear. Panic. Smoke. Falling.

"Don't." Her voice trembles.

Jayne's mouth is there, retracing the path of his fingers; a kiss on the brow, one on each eyelid and an exquisitely soft one on the scar itself. "Everything about you is beautiful," he says.

Inara turns her head towards him, seeking, unsure of what in particular, but the moment is there and she needs.

Jayne lets her, meets the pressure of her lips gently, yields entry to his soft, warm mouth.

She's falling again. And she doesn't care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted June 13th, 2005.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last completed bit for now! These were originally posted separately, and in a different order, but I'm putting them in order of where they are in the story's timeline, here. Thank you for reading.
> 
> Originally posted:   
> Inara POV - November 7th, 2008;   
> Jayne POV - November 1st, 2008;  
> Wash POV - January 2nd, 2008

Inara watches him work. Wash is quiet as he carefully measures. He measured the bedroom window earlier, marking the the length of wood he uses as a ruler very carefully, checking it several times to be sure it was absolutely correct.

The lumber was their greatest find, she thinks. Not because it means that they will have shutters when winter comes. She's not so certain they'll actually do much in the long run. But what it means for Wash, something finally for him to do. Something, Jayne admits, that he has no skills for. And Wash seems better now that he has something concrete to work on, something solid that he can contribute. It's done more for his spirit than anything she's tried.

A curse.

"What's wrong?" She doesn't know how to help him with this, carpentry beyond her ken.

"Nothing." He bends his head again to his task. "It's just harder. I can't." He shakes his head. "It's just harder."

"I'm sorry." She says it softly enough that she doesn't even know if he heard. She pretends that she doesn't see the tears he blinks back.

***  
***  
***

He should've expected it. Every sign had pointed to this, but he had hoped, dammit.

Jayne stops in the middle of the empty street and turns slowly, taking in the deserted buildings on either side. He doesn't need to go inside even one of them to know the truth. There is no one there. No one will help them. They are on their own.

He knows that there will be questions when he returns. They'll want to know what, how and why. Doesn't really matter.

Jayne spits and watches the dust swirl for a moment before he gets to work.

***  
***  
***

Wash is alone when winter ends. He has been expecting it for some time, but he didn't really feel it was over until that morning when the sun came bursting in.

It is hot, alive. Radiant.

His, "Hey, guys..." barely makes it out. Jayne and Inara had been up all night with the horses.

Wash is okay with being alone, this once. He can have this for himself. And maybe tomorrow he can share it with them, feel the light spread from the bottom of the bed to the top. Kiss sun-warmed skin awake and bask in the coming year.


End file.
